Do THIS in Remembrance of Me

Today words put on skin and lived out the mystery.

The mystery of faith. The walking out of belief.

The THIS in remembering.

As in:

"Do this in remembrance of me." --Luke 22:19.

The words Jesus told his disciples at the Last Supper. The words murmured during communion from countless lips throughout the centuries.

What exactly is THIS?

It is more than wine. It is more than bread. It is more than remembering what Christ DID.

It is a call to LIVE as Christ lived.

Word taking on skin.

Word becoming bone and sinew.

And blood.

A sacrifice. A mystery.

Faith must be more than words.

Do THIS in remembrance of me.

THIS is Marilyn and Kathy, Curt and Mary sitting with my mom during my dad's five-hour facial surgery to remove a cancerous tumor this past Thursday.

THIS is my mom sending hourly updates by email so we could be prayerfully connected although thousands of miles away.

THIS is college friend, Ryan, praying from Redding, California and asking his friends to join him.

THIS is nephew, Tim, and his church praying in Oklahoma.

THIS is sister Renae and niece Breezy sharing communion (remembering) and standing in faith in Pagosa Spring, Colorado.

THIS is cousins and nieces and nephews and uncles and aunts and friends and neighbors and all the people whose lives my parents have touched checking in with my mom and dad.

THIS is Uncle David driving from Solon Springs, Wisconsin to Rochester, Minnesota to just be there.

THIS is Nora, Cheryl, Rosie, Stephanie, Margie, Lillie, Sam, Dave, Barb, Mindy, Elizabeth, Jim, Mary, Julie, Lyn, Becky, Camille, Rygg, Joan, Ellen and countless others who called me or emailed me or sent messages on Facebook.

THIS is Doctor Moore's hands guided through surgery, removing the cancerous tumor.

THIS is friends praying in Mozambique, Africa.

THIS is my dad with an incision from the top of his ear and down under his jaw and then over to his Adam's apple, but in no pain and needing no pain medication.

THIS is my dad, at peace and joking with the doctors and nurses, living out that laughter IS the best medicine.

That is what THIS is.

Do THIS in remembrance of me.